


belong to you

by starboykeith



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Creampie, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Overstimulation, Pining, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Possessive Behavior, Post Season 6, Romantic Tension, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 12:57:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15582489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starboykeith/pseuds/starboykeith
Summary: Some days he feels silly for being jealous of himself: it was still him, after all. It was his love for Keith; his wish to be closer. Nothing that wasn’t there before.Other days he wants to touch and touch and touch until Keith is purely his.





	belong to you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sochan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sochan/gifts).



> thank you so much sochan, i hope you enjoy it!
> 
> title from belong to you by sabrina claudio

The memories don’t all come back at once.

Shiro wakes up screaming, panting, shivering with dread and regret at the feel of his fist striking Keith over and over, not understanding why or how but head ringing with the clear command to kill. He was helpless to obey, watching his body perform his own nightmares and fulfilling his purpose, the reason he was created –

“I was not created to kill Keith,” Shiro says aloud.

He sits up and peels his shirt off, the fabric clinging with cold sweat, and rubs a hand over his face.

They’ve been on Arus just over two weeks now, and not once has Shiro gotten a full night’s sleep.

He jumps at the sound of his door opening, a crack of light spilling into the room and illuminating Keith’s worried face in the gap. Shiro swallows and tries to find a smile.

“Keith,” he says, because Keith seems reluctant to come in. “It’s – what time is it?” He can hear the chirps and singing of animals outside, and it almost feels like home.

Keith steps inside, shutting the door quietly behind him. “Early,” he says. He’s fully dressed and Shiro guesses this isn’t the only reason he’s awake. He’s heard snatches of Keith’s nightmares in the room next to his; mornings where he’s risen early and listened for too long outside Keith’s door. The guilt eats him alive. “I didn’t know you were awake,” Keith adds, and Shiro frowns.

“Then why – “

“I wanted to check you were,” Keith starts, and doesn’t finish.

 _Still here_ , Shiro thinks.

They go down for breakfast – the Arusians are endlessly accommodating, and it’s hard not to feel guilty about that, too – because the intimacy of the dark room is too much to bear. It reminds Shiro of too-long hair and Keith’s soft voice saying, “As many times as it takes.”

Another memory that doesn’t belong to him.

Shiro doesn’t eat much, and Keith’s always eaten like a bird, so before long they’re wandering out to the balcony. His prosthetic – gleaming white and Altean, and Shiro owes more than his life to Allura – catches the light, and Keith looks sideways at it.

“I dream about cutting your arm off,” he says brusquely, and Shiro can’t help his flinch. Keith’s face falls, though he quickly looks away.

“Keith,” Shiro says, but doesn’t know where to begin.

“Things haven’t been the same,” Keith says, pain clear in his voice. “I just want you to know – it’s okay. I still – “

Shiro’s eyes slide to his scar, which has bloomed fresh purple-red. He remembers pressing it into Keith’s face.

“I think I can hear the others,” he interrupts, and it hurts to do it but he can’t – he _can’t_.

Keith stays looking out at the alien sky, shoulders hunched, protecting himself. Shiro walks away.

 

* * *

 

Shiro learns that there’s a difference between possessing a memory and having experienced it.

He can hear his own voice, feel his own feelings, but he can’t quite claim it as his own. It’s another Shiro, another Keith, and it’s hard to avoid the feeling that he’s been robbed. Jealousy churns thick in his stomach, clogs his throat, and he can hardly breathe upon waking from both nightmares and dreams. Dreams bring snatches of conversation, of touches – Shiro can’t help but notice just how much he _touched_ Keith, and wonders if Haggar fostered bluntness, confidence, assertion.

Some days he feels silly for being jealous of himself: it was still _him_ , after all. It was his love for Keith; his wish to be closer. Nothing that wasn’t there before.

Other days he wants to press fingerprints into Keith’s hips, bruise his lips like fruit, touch him everywhere until no one else remains, until Keith is purely _his_.

It’s hard to reconcile this selfishness with his guilt; hard to want to own Keith when Shiro doesn’t feel fit to touch him.

Shiro tells him this, in more guarded words.

Keith looks down, swinging his legs. The Arusian groynes stretch well out to sea, and they’d shuffled carefully down until they were above the glittering water. Shiro feels further out than he is; it’s surprising to look back and see the beach, not too far behind them.

“You’re not unworthy, Shiro,” Keith says eventually. “You don’t need my forgiveness. It wasn’t your fault.”

Shiro swallows. He looks at the dark maw of the ocean beneath. Blue waves come past in frills, spitting foam, twirling in the sunlight. “I don’t feel – right,” he says, and chuckles self-consciously. “Like there’s something wrong, inside.”

“Allura said adjusting to the procedure would take time,” Keith says. He’s trying to be firm, reassuring, but his worry breaks through. “And there’s _nothing_ wrong with you.”

When Shiro looks at him, his eyes are a little too bright.

“Keith,” Shiro says helplessly, and Keith swallows audibly and looks away.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says.

Sunset is budding, petals of crimson and amber waiting to burst across the water. Shiro bites his lip before putting his arm around Keith. Keith goes tense, and then relaxes completely, snuggling into Shiro’s side.

“Me too,” Shiro says. He would have waited an eternity in the astral plane if it meant returning to Keith.

His brush with death is something they can’t quite escape, lending an unspoken urgency to every word, every glance, every touch. Shiro watches the light catch in Keith’s hair and thinks suddenly that he shouldn’t – _can’t_ wait any longer.

Keith’s grown so much. Shiro’s lost so much time.

He hadn’t wanted to hinder Keith, knowing he was born for great things from the very beginning, knowing he would overtake Shiro himself one day. But Keith’s grown so much, with and without him; after all they’ve been through, Shiro thinks he might be done with giving Keith space. Perhaps it’s time to grow together.

“What do you want to do now?” Keith asks. Shiro thinks he’s talking about the future that stretches indeterminably in front of them like the ocean, and then he feels Keith shiver.

“We can go in,” Shiro says quickly, rubbing Keith’s arm. Keith shudders again. Shiro winces with guilt.

“No,” Keith says stubbornly.

“I don’t want to be selfish,” Shiro says cautiously, aware as he says it that it refers to too many things – too many things involving Keith. “Look, you’re cold.”

“If anyone’s earned the right to be selfish, it’s you,” Keith says, huffing a laugh. His lips are red and chapped from the salty air. Shiro wants to bite them. “Let’s watch the sunset, and then you can mother me all you like.”

“Fair enough,” Shiro says, but he pulls Keith closer all the same.

Just to keep him warm, of course.

 

* * *

 

Shiro’s in Haggar’s lab. He can’t move. He can’t breathe. Magic hums in the room, and Shiro can hear the whisper of blades moving nearby.

“Do you know where you are?” Keith sounds far away. Shiro’s heart clenches – is Keith here too?

“I’m strapped to a table,” Shiro says instead of begging Haggar for Keith’s life. Something feels wrong. He can feel restraints at his wrists, but when he shakes them, they fall away. He can’t seem to open his eyes. All of a sudden, the weight on him is gone.

“You’re not,” Keith says, and Shiro trusts him more than anything in the world; certainly more than his own fuzzy brain. “You’re right here in my arms. We’re on Arus. You’re safe.” Keith’s voice breaks. “Can you open your eyes?”

When he next tries, Shiro finds that he can. He also finds that he really is in Keith’s arms, and Keith’s face is very close to his own.

“You’re safe,” Keith tells him again, and this time he squeezes Shiro’s shoulder.

“I know,” Shiro says. “I’m with you.”

He shifts, tries to sit up – Keith’s on his bed, arms around him. It’s disconcerting to feel relieved: Keith isn’t afraid to touch him, is willing to help him. Perhaps Shiro shouldn’t have doubted – Keith has the purest heart he’s ever known – but the terror of being feared, of being untouchable, lingers from his days as the Champion and all the devastation he’s wrought since.

Shiro doesn’t realise he’s reaching out until his fingers brush Keith’s scar.

They both inhale sharply – and laugh just as quickly. Keith lets him touch, eyes full of something Shiro can’t describe. When Shiro falters, Keith takes his hand, keeping it on his cheek. _It’s okay_ , he seems to say. Uncertainty fades, and Shiro traces the blight with horror trembling in his fingers.

“Not the kind of mark I’d hoped to leave on you,” Shiro says, and turns his splutter into a cough when Keith’s eyes widen. He drops his hand. “On – on your life.”

Keith’s trying not to smile, but Shiro admits privately that he shattered the gravity of the moment the second he spoke. “Of all the ways you’ve affected my life,” Keith says slowly, “I hardly count this as one of the most – I don’t know, _important_. You’ve done so much good. If it wasn’t for you…”

 _My life would have been a lot different_ , Shiro echoes in his head, returning Keith’s rueful glance.

“When we get back to Earth,” Shiro starts. It’s new and daunting to even imagine his future, let alone a future with Keith, but he’s encouraged by the way Keith’s expression goes soft, lips turning up at the corners. “Maybe you could finally beat me at hoverbike racing, huh?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Keith teases, “I wouldn’t want to unseat the master.”

“As if you could,” Shiro shoots back, and just like that they’re laughing like they used to.

Hunk pokes his head in a little while later. “Dinner’s ready,” he says cheerfully, and disappears just as fast.

“Hm,” Keith says thoughtfully. He looks at Shiro. His gaze lowers to Shiro’s lips, just for a second, and then his eyes move elsewhere, the beginnings of a blush visible on his cheeks.

Shiro swallows, giving more thought to the position they’re in. It’s hard to distinguish whose limbs are whose. It’s almost frightening to so easily slip back into intimacy, but the sight of Keith, loose and relaxed in his arms, makes Shiro burn with the need to possess him.

 

* * *

 

It’s not a nightmare, exactly, but it wasn’t a dream either. Shiro still sees Keith’s knife, his scar, his tender expression, every time he closes his eyes. They were going to die together. Keith had said –

What Keith had said had been plaguing him for days, and Shiro tosses and turns, tries the lights on and off, tries having a cup of tea, but there’ll be no more sleep for him tonight. It doesn’t take long for Shiro’s thoughts to wander to Keith, and he wonders if, perhaps, Keith would just confirm what happened. Perhaps then, Shiro could stop dreaming of phrases and confessions that he can’t quite believe were meant for him.

That, and Keith’s presence is like balm for his soul. Shiro craves him, craves being around him, and at this time of night it’s hard to stop himself.

It’s gone midnight, but there’s still light shining under Keith’s door. Shiro swallows his nerves.

“What is it?” Keith asks, worried, and Shiro gapes at him like a fish out of water. Keith looks sleep-warm and tousled, but he’s still in his jeans. It’s a domestic sight, and Shiro’s chest goes warm.

Keith’s feet are bare, and that feels domestic, too. He pads closer, and Shiro remembers with a sudden sharpness the shack in Arizona: Keith’s own home, filled with research and work surrounding the blue lion, but also the small presence of knick-knacks. Shiro distinctly recalls a chunk of rock on a shelf; after a torturous year, returning to something as familiar as Keith’s fondness for ‘cool rocks’ was more of a relief than his escape.

“Nothing,” he says, quick to reassure Keith, who’s always quick to assume something’s wrong – Shiro thinks ruefully that Keith’s the caretaker of the two of them. _Not tonight_ , he thinks. Tonight, he wants to give Keith something back.

That is, assuming Shiro’s right about this. He’s still sorting through his head, still getting accustomed to double the memories and thoughts and feelings, but every part of him is in alignment regarding Keith.

“I just wanted to talk,” he finishes lamely, and Keith’s expression softens in understanding.

“Come in,” he says. The lights are low, but not too dim that they can’t see each other. “I thought you might want to talk about it, at some point.” Shiro thinks suddenly how much Keith has changed in his time away, how much he has matured. There’s a sense of loss that he missed out on that, but more than anything, Shiro feels honoured to watch Keith grow and learn. “I’m just gonna follow your lead.”

“Thank you,” Shiro says, and he means it. “That night,” he says, “with the clones, I – I don’t know what I would have done. _Could_ have done.”

“We’re both okay,” Keith says, a resolute note to his voice. “You’re stronger than you know, Shiro. I was able – I mean, you were able – “

“It _was_ you, though. Your words.” Keith looks away. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Shiro,” Keith begins uncertainly. His fingers tremble between them before he clasps his hands.

“You saved me,” Shiro says quietly. Something presses him to move closer to Keith, heart rate accelerating just from his presence. “I – I was right on the edge, and you said…” He pauses, eyes scanning Keith’s face.

“I love you,” Keith says, simple and sweet.

Shiro exhales in a rush, like the words have flipped a switch. He touches Keith’s cheek, and Keith leans into it helplessly.

“You’re my brother, Shiro,” Keith says, and while Shiro knows he means it figuratively, he still feels guilty for the flame the words light in his belly. Keith steps forward; his hand is so small in Shiro’s, and Shiro lifts it to his lips and kisses Keith’s fingers, waiting. Keith’s smiling helplessly. “I,” he says, and meets Shiro’s eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Shiro says. It’s new, unsteady, just like them. “I love you.”

“Shiro,” Keith says softly, and Shiro waits but he says nothing, gaze moving between Shiro’s eyes and lips with unmistakeable intent.

“Keith,” Shiro murmurs, heart thumping in his chest. “Can I kiss you?”

It’s the end of the line, he thinks. They were made for this; Keith was made for him.

Keith laughs shakily, leaning their foreheads together. “God, yes,” he says, and Shiro kisses him, soft and exploratory at first and then harder as Keith demands it, his tongue swiping over Shiro’s lips and taking his breath away. Keith’s greedy, his hands running over everything he can reach, gripping Shiro’s shirt and pulling them closer together, and it’s only when Keith sighs a moan into his mouth that Shiro realises they’re both hard.

He almost pulls away, but a darker part of him whispers that they _need_ this, that he deserves this, and Shiro moves instead, walking Keith backwards until his back hits the wall and he gasps.

“Yeah?” Shiro murmurs, taking Keith’s hand.

“Yeah,” Keith breathes, and he swallows audibly when Shiro pins that hand above his head. With his free hand, Shiro grabs Keith’s thigh and hikes it up, spreading Keith a little wider and letting Shiro get a thigh between his legs.

Keith’s heart hammers under Shiro’s tongue as he mouths Keith’s neck, paying close attention to sensitive spots, knowing he’s struck gold when Keith’s hand fists in his shirt and he moans, long and low.

Shiro leaves marks. “You’re mine,” he presses into Keith’s neck, collarbone, naval. Keith’s trying to be quiet, but Shiro pulls the sweetest noises from him, cataloguing every way Keith says his name.

He thought he’d want to go fast, but he owes Keith devotion, and there’s nothing he wants more than to take care of Keith, give him everything he deserves, give him happiness and pleasure rather than all the hurt and worry he’s caused Keith over the years.

Once he rids Keith of his shirt, Shiro hesitates over the newly bared skin. New scars give him pause; he knows he can’t protect Keith from everything, but it hurts to have the evidence before him.

“It’s okay,” Keith says quietly.

“I could have caused any of these,” Shiro says, tracing each one. Keith’s stomach contracts at the touch, and Shiro can’t help but admire the muscles there. “But I don’t even know.”

Keith’s hand skates over his head uncertainly, and Shiro smiles when Keith’s fingers slide into his hair.

“I’ll tell you all about them,” Keith says, and then, boldly, “But right now, I want – I want you to show me how much you love me.”

His voice shook a little, and Shiro thinks dizzily of how much time they have, now and forever, to gain confidence in each other. He knows Keith in every way but one.

“I will,” Shiro tells him, and Keith swallows audibly as Shiro reaches for his fly. Keith steps out of his jeans and underwear in one, but not before Shiro notes with smugness the wet spot on his boxers. There’s a kind of power, a kind of _dominance_ in being fully clothed when Keith’s naked before him.

“Come on, then,” Keith says, and much as Shiro wants to swallow him down for his insolence, it’s a better torture to take it slow.

He starts with the pre-come beading at the tip, and Keith’s head falls back against the wall with a satisfying thud. Shiro licks his lips for show and takes just the tip in his mouth, tracing maddening circles with his tongue and sucking lightly enough that Keith’s bare toes curl in the carpet, but he groans in frustration not too long after.

For now, Shiro opts for benevolence.

“ _Oh_ , fuck,” Keith gasps as he starts easing down. Shiro breathes through his nose and moans at the weight of Keith’s cock on his tongue, eyes closing in worship. Keith’s hips jerk forward helplessly, and Shiro takes them in his hands, rubbing his thumbs in the hollow of the bones there. Awash with sensation, he feels light-headed, and looks up at Keith to regain balance.

Keith’s eyes are wide, a hand over his mouth, and Shiro pulls off slowly, lips wet with pre-come and saliva.

“I want to hear you,” he says, moving one hand to cup Keith’s ass and squeeze the flesh there. He watches the movement of Keith’s throat as he swallows.

“Okay,” he whispers, nodding, hand coming away to reveal just how hard he’s biting his lip.

His moan when Shiro takes him in again is _gorgeous_ , and Shiro hollows his cheeks and sucks, bobbing his head and gripping Keith’s hips firmer when he thrusts forward. He listens for the change in Keith’s breathing, swallowing around him until Keith starts panting, breath hitching on little moans.

It isn’t long before his hands tighten in Shiro’s hair and he blurts out, “Shiro, stop, I’m gonna – “

Shiro opens his eyes to watch Keith come. He swallows it down, easing off Keith’s cock and sucking at the tip gently until Keith whines with sensitivity and pulls his hair. He lets Keith tug him upright and looks his fill: Keith’s cheeks are flushed pink, lips bitten red.

“You’re beautiful,” Shiro says, and Keith kisses him, tongues sliding together, kissing the taste of himself from Shiro’s mouth.

“Thank you,” is the first thing he says, and Shiro can’t help his smile. Keith reaches for the hem of Shiro’s shirt, tone questioning as he says, “Your turn?”

Shiro acquiesces, letting Keith pull his shirt over his head and slide his sweatpants down a little, biting his lip as Keith slips his hand inside and palms his cock.

“I think it’s still your turn,” Shiro says, a moan escaping his mouth despite his best efforts. Keith moves his hands to Shiro’s chest instead, and the simple touch becomes a hard grip when Shiro gets his hands under Keith’s thighs and lifts him up.

“That’s not fair,” Keith pants, wrapping his legs around Shiro’s waist. The movement rocks them slightly, and Shiro groans as Keith grinds against him.

“I never said this was going to be fair,” Shiro says once he’s deposited Keith safely on the bed. There’s something guarded in Keith’s expression as he stretches out; Shiro thinks maybe he’s not used to being looked at, and heat flares in Shiro’s belly to think that he might be the first to take Keith apart like this.

He’d never thought he could feel so possessive, until he had someone to possess.

Keith watches Shiro with a speculative gleam in his eyes. Shiro rummages in the bedside table, turning over trinkets and gifts Keith’s accumulated from various Voltron tours.

“It’s in the other one,” Keith says lazily, his smirk far too knowing for Shiro’s liking. Shiro swats his thigh as he crosses to the other side of the bed. What he wouldn’t give for real lube – but the bottle of oil in the drawer feels like God’s gift, right now. He especially likes how Keith’s eyes darken as Shiro puts it on the side.

“Now get rid of your sweatpants and come here,” Keith says, commanding.

“Are you the one giving the orders?” Shiro asks, pretending to consider.

“ _Orders_ ,” Keith mutters, but he puts a pillow under his head and waits. His gaze makes Shiro hot all over, and he kicks his sweatpants and socks away and climbs over Keith, nudging his legs a little further apart. Keith takes Shiro’s face in his hands, and between one blink and the next, he looks at once fiercely protective and pleasantly vulnerable.

Their next kiss is long, lips and tongues meeting again and again until Shiro finally draws back. He lowers his voice to a murmur; it feels more intimate, above Keith in dim light. “Can I have you?”

Keith moves his hands, placing one on Shiro’s shoulder. “Only if I can have you,” he says, and Shiro kisses him softly.

“You always have,” he says.

Keith watches with dark eyes as Shiro drizzles the oil across his fingers, feeling suddenly nervous. He doesn’t make excuses – sure, it’s been a while, but he knows he just wants it to be perfect, to show Keith he takes care of what’s his.

He slides his hand down, tugging once at Keith’s hardening cock to make him gasp, and circles Keith’s hole with his fingers. With his other hand he pushes at Keith’s thigh, and Keith spreads his legs so readily for him Shiro feels light-headed with desire.

“Have you done this before?” he asks quietly, because he may want to possess all of Keith but he’s going to do it gently, carefully, and Keith’s comfort is all he wants.

“I’ve only done a couple fingers,” Keith murmurs, and with that Shiro assumes that it’s his first time – at least, like this. The privilege of being the first to know him so intimately comes with its own kind of honour.

He’ll be the last, Shiro thinks. He’ll make sure Keith never wants anyone else the way he wants him, not when Shiro can provide everything he needs, care for him the way he deserves to be cared for.

He rubs gently at Keith’s hole, spreading the oil, getting Keith used to his fingers. Keith’s breath catches every so often, and Shiro makes sure to loosely stroke his cock, thumbing the vein underneath whenever Keith’s eyes fall closed. It’s not long before he’s sliding a finger inside, exhaling quietly at the tight heat, at Keith’s own breathy noise.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

Shiro adds a second finger, rubbing in circles natural enough that Keith relaxes into it. He scissors his fingers, stretching Keith little by little, and Keith’s shifting on the bed now, rocking his hips tentatively into the movement.

“How does it feel?” Shiro asks. He’s migrated from above Keith to laying beside him, but his eyes are still fixed on Keith’s face, watching for any problems.

“Feels good,” Keith says. Shiro seeks out his prostate, and a shocked moan spills from Keith’s mouth. “Oh God,” he blurts out. “I’ve never been able to – by myself – “

“Yeah?” Shiro says, moving to kiss his neck. “Feel good, baby?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Keith says, breathing punctuated by whimpers, and Shiro’s so hard it hurts but it’s worth it for this.

He adds a third finger not long after and Keith’s flushed and panting, one hand gripping the sheets as he struggles to keep control. Shiro settles between his legs, arm at an awkward angle but worth it to kiss Keith, who kisses back sloppy and wet, hand sliding into Shiro’s hair and tugging hard.

“I’m ready,” he whispers against Shiro’s lips. “Come on, Shiro.”

Shiro curls his fingers to find Keith’s prostate again, flaring with heat as Keith moans and arches up against him. “Just a little more,” he says, and then, lower, “I want you to come on my fingers.”

“ _Shiro_ ,” Keith groans, and Shiro wonders if, if he pushed him, whether Keith would beg. As it is, Keith’s whimpering, grabbing desperately for Shiro’s hand.

He’s starting to learn when Keith gets close: his breathing gets ragged, his eyes pinch closed, his voice and noises break in half. Shiro curls a hand around Keith’s cock and barely manages three strokes before Keith’s coming between them, clenching hot and tight around Shiro’s fingers. Shiro moans just imagining Keith squeezing around his cock like that, and his patience wears thin even as he wipes Keith’s stomach gently with the sheet.

Just as suddenly, Shiro finds himself on his back, Keith straddling his hips.

“Will you let me take care of you now?” he asks, amused.

“Yes,” Shiro breathes, looking up at him in awe. Keith’s blush runs from his cheeks to his chest, and he doesn’t fight too much when Shiro flips them over again. He fixes dark eyes on Shiro, and Shiro feels utterly pinned, kneeling between his legs.

Keith takes him in hand, fingers running the length of Shiro’s cock, and Shiro holds on by a thread, the touch almost too much to bear. Keith’s good: squeezing lightly on the upstroke, rubbing the head with his thumb, paying attention to the vein, and Shiro almost wishes he’d never stop, cock twitching helplessly into Keith’s hand.

“Is it okay like this?” he asks, taking hold of Keith’s leg just behind the knee and spreading him open. Keith blushes furiously, covering his face with a hand, and Shiro lets go to lean down and kiss him again, addicted. He hopes Keith feels cherished, because Shiro feels that from Keith’s presence alone.

“Yes,” Keith says, and when Shiro moves closer Keith hitches one leg around his waist. “Please,” he adds when Shiro hesitates, “I want you.”

“Yeah,” Shiro says dizzily. “God, I’ve wanted so much with you.”

He starts with the tip, pressing in _so_ gently it’s almost painful, everything in his body screaming at him to give in and _take_ , but Shiro pauses every so often, watching Keith’s face. Keith softens after a moment of the push and pull, so Shiro coaxes him back to hardness until he bottoms out inside Keith and they both moan.

“You make me want to lose control,” Shiro says, measured. He’s proud of his steady tone. Keith feels like a dream, hot and tight and squeezing experimentally around him, mouth falling open. Shiro wishes he could watch, see where they’re connected, but he likes it like this, with Keith close enough to kiss.

“Do it,” Keith says breathlessly. “I want you to.”

He whimpers exquisitely when Shiro withdraws. “Don’t be greedy,” Shiro says, though it’s hard not to fall prey to it himself. He exhales, brushes Keith’s damp hair from his forehead, and starts pressing in again.

Keith’s toes curl against the small of his back when Shiro starts moving, stretched full-length above Keith and admiring the myriad of expressions as he thrusts shallowly.

“I can take it,” Keith says, and the first time Shiro thrusts in and pulls out in one swift movement Keith moans so loud that Shiro worries for the first time about someone hearing them.

He’d never silence Keith though, wants all of his noises to keep, and so Shiro keeps moving, sounds pulled from his own mouth at the feel of it, the knowledge that he’s inside Keith, Keith’s first and last and only and all belonging to him.

“Gorgeous, baby,” Shiro manages when Keith finds his rhythm, rocking his hips in time with Shiro’s thrusts and pushing him deeper, harder. Keith goads him, scratches his back, bites his lips until they bleed, and all Shiro can think is _mine mine mine_ and that he will not bend.

He fucks Keith in a slow, thorough grind, heedless to Keith’s pleading for _more, faster_ , because Shiro wants this to _last_ , wishes he could stay inside Keith forever, keep them locked and bound as one.

And he _knows_ it’s better like this, when his endurance pays off and Keith’s eyes roll back in his head with every thrust until he’s gasping, “I’m close, please, Shiro – “

“Say it again,” Shiro pants.

The words paint confusion in Keith’s eyes for only a moment before he’s smiling and whispering, “I love you.”

“Keith,” Shiro says – blurts out, really, he’s so close he can hardly think, getting a hand around Keith’s cock and squeezing with his strokes, slowing the pace enough that Keith growls in frustration. Shiro grabs one of Keith’s hands and pins it above his head, interlocking their fingers and it feels shockingly intimate, doing it like this, connected in every way.

“I love you,” Keith says, voice breaking, and then he wails and manages, “God, I love you so fucking much, Shiro, _Shiro_ – “

Keith’s hole flutters and clenches with orgasm around him and it brings Shiro off too, panting hard against Keith’s neck and feeling the incessant touch of Keith’s hands on his back slow to a trembling grip.

“I love you,” Shiro murmurs.

He pulls out reluctantly, and as gently as he can, but Keith still whines, oversensitive and raw from orgasm. Shiro touches inside to check for damage and Keith wriggles, come spilling around Shiro’s fingers and making him flush with the idea of something so sordid, such a primal claim.

The business of washcloths and a towel over the wet spot doesn’t take long, and Shiro slides into the other side of the bed. Keith’s still panting slightly when he manoeuvres himself against Shiro’s side, cuddling close and pulling the sheet over them. Shiro looks down at him, words stolen from his mouth with the knowledge that Keith is his, and he belongs to Keith, too. Choked up, he drops a kiss on Keith’s forehead.

“I love you,” he says softly.

“I love you, too,” Keith says, and puts a hand over Shiro’s heart.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a comment if you enjoyed, and you can find me on twitter at twitter.com/starboysheith and tumblr at starboykeith.tumblr.com !


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